


Performance Art

by thranduils1



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Body Shaming, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thranduils1/pseuds/thranduils1
Summary: Fem!Reader x Ransom Drysdale. The reader is married to Ransom; a picture of their life and flashback to when they met. If she had been here by her own choice and her own choice alone, things may be better for her. Ransom is devious though and is able to tangle her into his web.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & You, Ransom Drysdale x Reader, Ransom Drysdale x You - Relationship, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on 6/25/2020.

You caught a reflection of yourself in the window. A tight deep blue dress – Ransom’s favorite color of course – practically painted on your curves. It was the first time you had worn heels this high in almost a year – the pregnancy causing too much swelling in your feet. The silver straps of them wove around your foot, a band around your ankle. You had thought humorlessly to yourself earlier it was like you were willingly putting on shackles –

“Y/N?”

You blinked, your attention zoning back into the dining table.

Ransom’s aunt Joni was looking at you across the table, a wide smile on her face. She smiled even wider if that was possible, “There you are. Looks like you were on, like, Mars or something.” A few light laughs shared at your expense echoed around hers. “I said, you look amazing. How did you do it?”

You snuck a quick look down at yourself. Right. Your weight. Post pregnancy. Of course that was an appropriate topic of conversation at the Drysdale dinner table. Everything was about appearance.

“Well—”

“Luckily, Y/N has got great genes,” Ransom cut in from beside you. You closed your mouth, gaze turned towards him. You had taken too long to respond for his liking, once again. “Plus, she is really motivated in the gym. Not to mention, a tuck does a lot of wonders.”

You almost visibly blanched. Almost. You were good at hiding your emotions now.

Joni let out a sharp, shrill laugh. Waving her hand at you, she said, “I knew you weren’t perfect! There was no way. Aw, Y/N, nothing to be ashamed of. I had it done too. Couldn’t stand to look at myself after Meg. She wreaked ab-so-lute havoc. Still does. Luckily not on my body though now, so it’s easier to deal with.”

“Thanks, mom,” Meg muttered, throwing her a disdainful look.

“I didn’t wait long either. They told me to wait six months,” Joni said, sticking her tongue out in disgust. “I just couldn’t.”

“Same,” Donna chimed in from down the table. Joni gave her a nod of solidarity.

“Doctor said if she was having the surgery, it should wait until after breastfeeding,” Ransom said for you. “Well, that’s why the baby is on formula.”

He tossed you a quick smirk, cutting into his steak. You watched the red seep from the flesh of it onto the plate, trying to disassociate from him divulging things that should be secret.

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Joni said firmly. “You know, I don’t care what some people say, formula is just as good for the baby as breastmilk. People should trust science more.”

You heard a small snort from down the table and did not even have to look to know who it emanated from.

“Of course you would disagree with something regarding science,” Meg quipped at Jacob.

“When it’s filled with mass media lies –”

“Alright,” Donna said cutting into the conversation uncomfortably. Luckily, Walt had left the room to go to the bathroom; he no doubt would have encouraged Jacob’s tirade. Tenseness quickly melted away to charm, “Anyway, Y/N. You do look lovely. And the baby is just beautiful.”

The baby. Yes. The baby being cradled by Fran in another room currently instead of you. Away from the table in case he cried and disrupted dinner. He was beautiful for the aesthetic but when it came to dinner – or any other event Ransom deemed took precedence to your child’s presence – his preciousness only extended into the collective patience so far.

“Yes, he is sure is a little bundle of joy,” Richard announced, looking proud. Proud of his new grandson and continuing his family line.

A perfectly crafted, artificial smile. “Yes. He is.”

<> <> <>

**_…TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER_ **

“What the absolute SHIT!”

A shout rang over the water of your shower. You stalled, straining to hear if there was anything else, trying to figure out what was going on.

“What the hell! Who the hell set my alarm to basically blow my goddamn fucking eardrums?”

Shit.

You rinsed your hair quickly, cursing the fact your refreshing shower was being cut short. You had over indulged on the vodka last night and the cool water was like heaven. And now you were going to have to deal with this.

Wrapping your towel around yourself, you continued to hear a loud conversation continuing about who had decided to try to blow someone’s eardrum and not to mention, wake them at an ungodly hour.

It was nine in the morning.

You left the bathroom quickly, walking over to the railing to look down the staircase to the ground-floor landing. You leaned against the oak, peering down at the looming figure over your roommate, Malcolm.

“Look, Ransom, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. We were all drinking. Just go back to bed, man.”

The other guy, Ransom, scoffed loudly. “Go back to bed? Malcolm, my ear is still ringing like a motherfucker!”

Malcolm threw his hands out, “Then do you want breakfast? Alyssa has it cooking.”

Ransom exhaled loudly, annoyance still evident. “Whatever,” he muttered, rubbing his ear, and turned away from Malcolm.

Malcolm all but rolled his eyes before saying, “Well, when you are hungry, it’s in the kitchen. I bet it would really help with the hangover.”

He turned and walked off.

Ransom looked after him before shaking his head and making to go back down the hall to the guest room where he had been sleeping.

Something was bubbling in your chest to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted.

Ransom’s eyes were on you in a moment a floor above him, leaning over the railing in only your towel. Now that he was looking at you and you had drawn attention to yourself, you were quickly losing whatever resolve had forced its way out of you.

“I… I think it was me?” you said uncertainly. “I mean, with your alarm. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had turned it up that loudly.”

He was burning a hole through you with the way he was staring at you. The seconds stretched into miles, just waiting for him to say something.

“You should keep your hands off my shit.”

The words stung. You were not sure what you had expected but maybe with an apology, you thought you would quell his frustration even a little bit. Apparently, that was not the case.

Ransom tore his gaze away from you and stormed off down the hallway leaving you gripping the bannister nervously.

<> <> <>

You would have gotten over the exchange if only you had not run into him a few days later. You were attending a business convention, trying to get a leg up in the industry; you were close to graduating. There were a lot of big names there and you had been drawn to Linda Drysdale, who had taken an immediate liking, you believed, to you. She was all charm and compliments, but they were constructive compliments, not merely for flattery. She claimed to be self-made – you noted to yourself to investigate that later – and that was encouraging for you.

“Ah, did not expect to see you here,” She said over your shoulder.

You turned your head and your heart dropped into your stomach recognizing him. Ransom. He was dressed nicer now; hair slicked back, donning a dark grey cashmere sweater and cream trousers.

Turning away quickly, heart beginning to pound, you hoped he had not recognized you.

“Seems I can’t get away from you.”

No such luck.

Linda looked at you and then back at Ransom. “You two know each other?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘know’. I don’t even know her name. She just lives with my friend.”

“Oh. Hmm. That is an odd coincidence then,” Linda said. “Well, her name is Y/N and she is about to graduate – with honors as her esteemed mentor happened to mention to me and she had neglected to herself,” she gave you a slight wink. She had already teased you about being too modest about your accomplishments earlier in your conversation. It was only because Dr. Ewiler – and old friend of hers – had walked by and joined the conversation briefly and spoke you up that she knew about your grades. “With majors in Entrepreneurship and Accounting.”

Ransom peered down his nose at you, still not sitting down in one of the chairs. “Fascinating,” he said flatly.

Red came to your cheeks at his impertinent demeanor and Linda noticed.

Linda scoffed, looking embarrassed for a moment before recovering. She scolded, “Hugh Ransom, Jesus. Be polite.” To you, she said, “Please excuse, my son. I thought I raised him better.”

Son? You almost groaned. You did not miss him rolling his eyes at his mother’s comment.

“Sorry,” he told you in a tone of voice that relayed no remorse at all. “Y/N. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” you said in an even tone, feigning some level of sincerity despite wanting him to just leave. But if he was her son… “I hope your hearing is back to normal despite my clumsy behavior. I am still apologetic about that.”

You were trying to mend that bridge with him; you did not want it to possibly ruin whatever relationship you were currently starting with his mother. You wanted – no, you needed – to have her as a connection.

Yet, you could not quite pinpoint the emotion – miffed? Amused? – that was behind his small, closed lipped smile at your apology. His smile did not reach his eyes, that was clear enough.

“It’s fine,” he responded.

“Your hearing…?” Linda asked.

Turning back to look at her, you gave a little nervous laugh, thinking of a cutesy way you could tell the story. You began to explain but Ransom cut you off.

“I had a little too much to drink and passed out. Y/N tried to help me out by making sure I got up at a decent hour but somehow turned the volume of my alarm up to full blast. Right next to my head.”

Linda snorted, “Oh. Well. That does sound like you.” There was something underneath her tone. As if there was a jab at Ransom. He was stone faced though. “Well, Y/N. At least you tried. That’s all we can say sometimes.”

You nodded, exhaling. Your heart was still beating rapidly.

“So, what brought you to a business convention at a college, Ransom? Surely it wasn’t to see me?” Linda asked, looking at him expectantly.

Ransom told her, “Actually. It was. I was hoping we could catch lunch. I wanted to talk to you about something. When’s this thing over?”

Linda checked her watch and said, “I can really leave any time now.”

You fought to hide your disappointment.

Her attention was on you now. “How about I give you my number, Y/N? I would like to continue this conversation about your business model proposal; it is promising.”

You sat up straighter, heart beginning to race again. She liked your idea? Truly?

“I could use some fresh minds at my disposal. That is if you are interested in my company.”

“Oh. Yes,” you said quickly.

Linda smirked at you amused at your quick response. She pulled out a small card from her purse and flipped it over, scribbling a number on the back. Holding it out to you, she said, “Personal cell phone. Now, don’t abuse it.”

“Of course not,” you reassured her, taking it from her. “That would be disrespectful.”

“Yes, it would,” Linda agreed. She stood up from her chair, straightening out her dress. She held out her purse to Ransom, “Here.”

He took it reluctantly as she gathered herself. You stood to meet her, realizing in your excited state you had neglected to do when she rose. You wanted to kick yourself.

When she looked at you again, you stuck your hand out. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with me. It was enlightening and beneficial for me to have a respected self-made businesswoman’s opinion.”

Linda shook your hand strongly. “You’re welcome, Y/N. I hope to hear from you soon.”

She walked past you and you pivoted, following her movement.

Ransom was staring you down and you averted your eyes from him to the ground momentarily before looking up at him again. He smirked when you met his gaze again. There was something malicious about it and you did not like it one bit.

<> <> <>

A knock on your bedroom door drew you from your bed. You put your bookmark in place and tossed the book onto the comforter next to you before getting up.

Swinging the door open, you startled seeing Ransom standing there, his large hand planted on the doorframe, leaning in towards you. His cologne was strong, wafting in around you.

“Can I come in?” he asked you without waiting for an answer, pushing past you.

“I…” you started to say, stumbling your words. “Yes?”

Ransom was taking your room in and you shifted uncomfortably. He walked over to your desk, flipping through the pages of your latest pieces of your latest thesis; the one you had been speaking to his mother about.

Eyes ran over the pictures hung of you and your friends, over your bookcase, your movie collection, fingers tracing your jewelry hung on display…

He was invading your space.

“Um, can I help you with something? Is Malcolm supposed to be here?”

“He is here,” Ransom answered, dismissively, coming to rest in front of your collection of rocks you had collected from different parts of the world you had traveled to. You could tell him where each one was from with ease, memory tied deeply to them. He was touching them, examining them, and tossing them carelessly back into the bowl.

Moving quickly over to him, you asked, “Can I help you with something then?”

He dropped the rock he was looking at and turned to you, “Yes, actually. I came up here to ask you out on a date.”

Taken aback, you leaned away, brows furrowed in confusion. “Ah. What?”

“Are you the one with a hearing problem, then?” Ransom quipped.

“I heard you just fine,” you responded, still trying to catch up with what was happening.

“Then it’s settled. I have a reservation at Ocean Prime at 7pm tonight. I’ll come back by to pick you up at 6:30pm.” He moved past you back towards your door.

Your mouth was open like a fish, blinking. You snapped back to reality and turned quickly. “Wait—”

“Wear something nice!” Ransom ordered over his shoulder, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Deflating, you stared at the empty doorway behind him. He had not even given you time to respond – to decline if you so chose to. But could you really decline? He was Linda Drysdale’s son. And you wanted so desperately a break into that business world that she moved in; Ransom – despite his boorish behavior – could be a key to that if you played your cards right.

Turning towards your closet, you bit your lip. What could you wear?

<> <> <>

Holding your clutch close in front of you, you walked next to Ransom after the valet took your car. He had a long stride and guided you to keep up with him. Throughout dinner he surprisingly asked you questions about yourself, allowing you to answer. You kept it short and courteous, mindful about not overindulging. He genuinely seemed interested and you were caught off guard; you had expected him to go off about himself. It is what his persona had indicated he would be like in all your encounters with him. Maybe he had simply been in a bad mood?

At least that was the case with you. He was less than courteous with the wait staff and you found yourself forcing yourself to thank them more profusely and smile wider to try to make up for him.

He picked up the entire bill although you had offered to go Dutch. He had seemed momentarily vexed by the offer but recovered quickly, holding out his card to the waitress between his fingers, not even acknowledging her presence past that.

On the ride home, it was quiet, the windows down in his beamer as the two of you raced through the city. He was a fast driver and it made you nervous, but you tried to focus on the city lights, taking in the night life.

Ransom insisted on walking you back inside and having another drink. He helped himself to a smidge of Malcolm’s scotch and handed you your own glass. You sipped and made a face even though you tried not to.

“Right. It’s not a woman’s drink,” he said, taking the glass back from you and emptying it into his own. “Let’s get you something fruity. Ah, perfect. Let me guess: this orange vodka is yours?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, playing with the top ruffle of your dress.

Ransom made you a drink of the vodka, orange juice, a splash of sprite, and ice.

“You know your way around a drink,” you commented lightly, taking a sip.

“I had the pleasure of being able to experiment with my mother and father’s extensive alcohol cabinet since I was a teen,” Ransom responded, taking a drink of the scotch. He walked around you to the living room. “I’ve always loved Malcolm’s style of decorating. He is good at keeping the Victorian look of the house while touching it up with modern.”

You followed him, listening.

He tossed you a look and said, “You haven’t put your touch on anything out here.”

“It’s not really my house. I just rent my room.”

“I know,” Ransom chuckled. “That’s why I wanted to see your room.” Another drink. “Want to show me it again?”

The way he so flippantly mentioned it…

“You don’t want to stay down here?”

Ransom turned back to you, chuckling. He pushed your glass, guiding it up to your lips. “Drink up.” You did as he asked and almost choked when he made you finish the entire thing. “Now, let me ask you again… want to show me again?”

No. He had not simply been in a bad mood the last couple of times. He was still the same inconsiderate, entitled jerk.

You did not answer him, at loss for words.

“Fine. Thought you would feel more at ease in your bedroom, but I guess here is just as well.” You made to protest but he interrupted, “Malcolm isn’t coming home tonight. I asked because I invited them to do dinner too, but he declined since they are going up north to see Alyssa’s parents. Fortuitous for me.”

Finishing his drink in a quick gulp, he grabbed both your glasses and placed them on the mantel above the fireplace. Before you could react, he tugged you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. You tried to recoil but he held tight, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you. He turned you, forcing you up against the wall to further prevent you from escaping.

His hands slipped up underneath your dress, gripping at your thighs.

“Hey!” you finally were able to exclaim when he came up for air. You tried to push him away. “Ransom!”

“Yes?” he asked condescendingly, forcing you back against the wall erasing the small amount of space you had carved out for yourself with the shove. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes! Stop!” you told him, trying to escape underneath his arm but he blocked your attempt, pressing his body weight against you. “Please!”

“What? You don’t like me?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t even _know_ you!”

“Oh, but you want to know me. And you want to know my family. That is clear as day,” Ransom stated, leaning in close, his nose almost brushing yours. “A girl from a modest family trying to get a leg up in the world…” He smirked. “Truth be told, I would love to get your leg up. But first…”

He forced you to your knees, your face close to his crotch. You tried to push yourself up and away, but he grasped your hair and you stilled, gasping at the tug he administered when you had tried to move again.

Ransom’s free hand came down to your cheek, caressing gently. His thumb brushed over your lips as you shakily made eye contact with him. His pupils were beginning to dilate, desire glaring as his tongue ran across his lip. He hand cupped your jaw and he murmured, “You keep saying you’re sorry. I want you to show me how sorry you are.”

You gaped and he grinned, “That’s the spirit, keep it open.”

Gasping when he shoved your cheek up against him again, you felt his hardening dick through his pants. “Come on, Y/N. Be a good girl. I know you know how to do this. A girl like you? From a modest family not in the area? You didn’t get through school just on brains alone. Had to make connections somehow.”

Anger coursed through you at his words and you tried to push away from him once more, but he just wound his hand tighter in your hair causing you to wince. Tears pricked at your eyes as your anger melted to humiliation as he grinded his length up and down your cheek.

Yanking you away, he stared down at you, tickled at the expression on your face.

“You want to use my mother to get into the business world with a bang. It’s understandable, she’s great at what she does. And she has those connections in her hand to give you. All you gotta do is charm her and give her results.”

“But I want you to have to work a little harder for it. You know I can say one thing to my mother, and she won’t have anything to do with you ever again.” He ran his fingers across your lips forcibly. “So, you’re going to open that pretty little mouth of yours and you’re going to show me one, how sorry you are and two, how badly you want to break out of your situation.”

When you did not answer he gave your head a little shake, “Right, Y/N?”

You licked your lips, a tear escaping. Horsley, you answered, “Right.”

He unzipped his trousers, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxer briefs. You stared at the length in front of you, trying to compose yourself. You could do this. You had to do this. You were backed into a corner, literally and figuratively.

Ransom tasted salty as you took him into your mouth. He groaned the further you took him in, increasing your speed the wetter you made him. His fingers at the back of your head were digging in, forcibly pushing you further to take him even deeper. Tongue swirling, you drew low moans of pleasure from him.

Suddenly, both his hands grasped the sides of your head, holding you in place. He thrusted, using you and you struggled to stay steady on your knees with his violent jolts. Loud grunts left his lips, animalistic and savage. You gagged, a few tears running down your cheeks. He was hitting the back of your throat so roughly you thought you were going to get sick.

Fortunately, he pushed you away. Gasping for air, you rubbed at your throat, trying to ease the discomfort.

He grasped your arms and yanked you from the floor. In a fluid motion, he spun the two of you around to face the back of the couch. His hand pressed to the small of your back and your face came to contact with the couch cushions.

Ransom forced himself between your legs, kicking one out to the side to give himself more room.

“A-a condom?” you choked out.

“You’re on birth control, aren’t you?” he asked, hiking your dress up.

“Y-y-yes.”

He chortled and said to himself more than anything, “Well, we will have to fix that for next time.”

You bucked forward when you felt his fingers slipping inside you, rubbing at your clit. You whimpered feeling yourself get wetter with each stroke. You were getting close; he was skilled at pushing you towards falling over the edge.

But he wanted to be inside you for that; his fingers left and his head replaced them.

When he pushed himself inside, you cried out adjusting to his girth. He moaned loudly, bottoming out. He let out a little laugh before pulling out and slamming back in. Your hands gripped the cushions trying to give yourself some sense of balance as he rammed into you repeatedly.

Ransom was holding tight at your hips, his own snapping off your ass hard enough that it was going to bruise. Each stroke of his cock against your clit sent a flow of pleasure through you until it was like a wave breaking. Broken whimpers echoed as you convulsed around him. When he came with a loud shout, you felt him fill you, his cock twitching inside.

His grip went lax at your hips and he reached underneath, and you squeaked when he pinched at your oversensitive clit.

“That was cute,” he husked, his hands slowly running up your sides. One of his hands snaked around your neck and he pulled you back up to his chest, still fully seated inside you.

“Mhm, yeah,” Ransom breathed against your ear, his fingers flexing in and out on your neck. “I think if you keep this up, you will be the epitome of the type of girl I want to bring home to my parents.”

<> <> <>

**_…PRESENT_ **

Ransom never let you out from underneath his thumb, not that he needed to try too hard. You knew that if you divorced him, you had nothing. You had signed a prenup and even if you thought you could make it without money, there would be bad blood with the Drysdales and with how much influence they had on the area, you would have a huge obstacle to overcome.

Yes, you got to work with Linda, and you had influence with her. But it was still her business, not yours.

You had gotten what you wanted mostly though.

A family. Money. A place in the business world.

It just came with a price.

Ransom’s hand gripped your leg underneath the table, sliding past the hem to the inside of your thigh.

“Now I have two precious things in this world to me,” he said in response to his father.

Another perfectly crafted smile from you.

And he still had that malicious glint in his eye, even as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Good girl,” he breathed so only you could hear.


	2. My Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 2/27/21

“You are always so much more relaxed when Ransom isn’t here,” Harlan remarked lightly, his fingers tapping on the table lightly.

You looked over your shoulder from the stove at him, caught off guard by the comment. He was sitting there, his gaze prodding. Marta was at the small kitchen table with him as well, looking as uncomfortable as you with the random comment.

When he noticed the startled look on your face, he gave you a gentle smile. “I’m not accusing you, Y/N. No need to be on edge. Just… making an observation.”

Unsure of what to say, you looked away trying to conjure up anything that would not be taken too seriously.

“He can be intense sometimes,” you offered up, stirring the soup in the pot.

Once a month at least, you made a point to visit Harlan on your own – well, now with Oliver. He was sleeping in one of the guest rooms upstairs that still held one of the cribs from when his grandchildren were young. Now, his great-grandson was using it. Fran had taken the baby monitor with her down to the laundry room. She insisted on coddling him as much as she could when you visited. You were cooking dinner as you usually did when you made these visits. You enjoyed Harlan’s company – your grandparents had never been a large part of your life, so it was nice to have one. You cherished his company and his humor. And you enjoyed Marta’s company as well. She was the closest thing you had to a real friend. All the women at the country club were not for you, even though you faked it perfectly whenever you were around them.

‘’Intense’,” Harlan rolled around in his mouth, contemplating on the word choice. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose that is an accurate way to describe it.”

The conversation dropped off from there, silence filling the space. You snuck a look at him and saw he was deep in thought, staring down at his hands.

What an odd thing to say, you thought to yourself.

But Harlan was one to notice something like that.

<><><>

As you walked back from the kitchen with a glass of water, you noticed Harlan was standing in his veranda, overlooking the back yard. Changing course, you walked out of the screen door, catching his attention.

“Anything interesting, birthday boy?” you asked.

“Besides the beautiful sunset?” Harlan asked, smiling and gesturing at the setting sun.

“It is a fine shade of orange,” you commented, coming to stand by him.

He nodded and asked, “How are you enjoying the party so far? And where are my congratulations? I think that’s in order.”

You laughed, “Of course. Congratulations for your 85th birthday. And it is… just beginning. So, so far so good. The cake looks lovely, I saw it in the kitchen. Lemon frosting. Should be tasty. It is one of my favorites.”

“I remembered that,” Harlan said. “You love lemon tarts too. And lemon bars. I am sensing a theme here. We are very much alike in our passion for lemon dessert.”

“Hmm, you’re really going to enjoy part of your gift,” you said, reaching into your pocket for the candies. “I brought these for you.”

He peered into your outstretched hand and let out a throat chortle. You dumped the lemon warheads into his hand, sharing the laugh. Examining them, he said, “I am sure that is what my face will look like when I eat them.”

“Should do it in front of everyone. It’ll look nice in the photos,” you joked.

“I just might,” Harlan said, smiling at you. He slipped them into his pocket and told you, “Thank you, Y/N.” He held out his arm. “Escort me inside?”

You looped arms with him, “Yes, of course.”

<><><>

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ransom snapped, standing in front of Harlan’s desk. Harlan had called him into the study from the party and informed him he was considering changing his will, expressing his unhappiness with the family.

“Does it sound like I’m kidding?” Harlan asked nonchalantly, only a twitch in his face giving away he was annoyed that Ransom had swore at him. “It is what is best for everyone if they do not shape up.”

“So, you’re just going to give your fortune away if everyone doesn’t change to what you want them to be?” Ransom asked, laughing in disbelief.

Harlan shook his head, “No… no, I do not intend to do that. I will leave it to Marta.”

“You’re joking,” Ransom scoffed. “Your Brazilian nurse? Are you insane?”

“No, I’m thinking straight for the first time in a while. And not just Marta. But Oliver too,” Harlan informed him. Ransom straightened at that, his eyes narrowing. Harlan gave him a wry smile, “Now, don’t you go trying to get clever about it either, Ransom. Oliver won’t be able to touch it until he’s 25 years old.” Ransom scoffed again, looking furious. “And to that point as well, Y/N will be in charge of it until then.”

Ransom’s eyes bugged incredulously, and he blurted, “ _Y/N_?” He seemed more offended about this than hearing about Marta.

He shook his head, biting his cheeks. He was supposed to control her, not the other way around.

Stepping towards the desk, he demanded, “Just because she bakes you dinner every once in a while? She gets to have millions of dollars for that?” His voice was rising. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You really have lost your goddamn mind!”

“You do not get to tell me what I am going to do with my will!” Harlan said louder than he intended to.

Leaning forward, Ransom pointed at him threateningly, “I’m warning you—”

“You should be grateful,” Harlan cut him off.

“’Grateful’?” Ransom demanded. “ _Grateful_? What about this should I be grateful about?”

“That your son will be taken care of,” Harlan told him firmly. “I’m only telling you because I do hold a special place for you, Ransom, but you need to do better by her. And consequently, be a father, a real one. Prove to me you love the family you have and grow it with purpose. I don’t plan on sharing this with anyone… they can figure it out after I am gone if things don’t change. You have an opportunity here—"

Ransom barked out a laugh, throwing his hands up. “I can’t with this. Look, when you’ve got your head screwed back on, I’ll be here to talk. Happy fucking birthday.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel, storming to the door. He threw it open, letting it hit the wall on his way out.

<><><>

Meg was cooing at Oliver, smiling as his eyes followed her. You adjusted him in your arms and asked, “Do you want to hold him?”

“Oh, su—”

“Get your shit,” Ransom ordered you, appearing out of nowhere, startling the two of you. “We’re leaving.”

He looked engulfed in fury and you knew better than to argue with him normally but like this was signing a death wish. But it was Harlan’s birthday, and you could not help yourself.

“But the cake and—”

“You don’t need cake, do you?” Ransom spat vehemently.

Heat quickly game to your cheeks and you closed your mouth, sinking into yourself at his insult. He always knew how to cut you the deepest. Meg though was another story.

“What the hell, you asshole—” she started to spit back at him.

“Shut the fuck up, Meg. Don’t you have some communist bullshit to go read about how you’re going to undermine the government?” Ransom snarled and snapped his fingers at you. “Y/N, what did I just tell you? Stop standing there looking stupid. Get Oliver’s shit and let’s go. I’ll be in the car, don’t make me wait.”

He turned on his heel, swiping his coat off the back of the chair by the door.

You swallowed sharply, trying to hold back tears as you made eye contact with Meg for a moment before averting your gaze, humiliated.

“What the fuck is up his ass?” Meg muttered, staring in anger at where he had disappeared.

You managed a shrug as you began walking towards the door where Oliver’s car seat was waiting. She told you she would get him buckled up if you wanted to go say goodbye to everyone. You shook your head, not trusting yourself to not look like a mess, nervous about how Ransom was going to be for the rest of the night.

The car ride home was unpleasant. He was silent but you could tell he was fuming. And he kept stealing angry glances your way and you could not for the life of you figure out what you had done.

When you did get home, he hit the scotch, making a stiff one as soon as he got through the door practically and you made yourself scarce. You planned to steer clear of him as much as you could knowing his bad mood was only going to be exacerbated by the alcohol.

The TV echoed from downstairs, he was not watching it quietly. You swore under your breath, as Oliver babbled softly. He had been sleeping so soundly in the car and had woken up to the loud noise downstairs. It took awhile to get him back to sleep and when he finally did, you laid him down gently and left the room as quiet as you possibly could, closing the door. You waited a few seconds and did not hear him cry out, much to your relief.

Going to the bedroom, you got ready for bed, hoping to fall asleep quickly because Oliver had a habit of waking up around 4:00am.

Just as you had turned off your bedside lamp, you heard a creak. Turning, you saw Ransom’s silhouette was in the doorway, illuminated from the hall light. The TV was still on downstairs and you hoped he was only up here to change and would leave again without unleashing any more beratement on you. You still could not figure out what you had done that had made him so upset with you. There was usually something. You wore the wrong type of dress, cooked something he was not in the mood for, came too quickly…

He stalked into the room coming to your side of the bed and the hope he was going to leave you alone was quickly fading. He reached out and turned on your lamp again, staring down at you. You could see he was drunk; you knew the signs in his eyes.

“Are you coming to bed?” you asked him calmly.

His smile was unkind. “Oh, yes. Dear wife. I am coming to bed.” Just as quickly as it had appeared, his smile fell and he ordered you, “Take that stupid thing off.” You stammered and he asked annoyed, “Am I going to have to rip it off of you?”

Quickly, you pulled the nightgown off, sitting naked on the edge of the bed as he undressed himself, kicking his clothes off to the side. He was already getting hard, to your surprise considering how much he must have imbibed by the smell of his breath. Before he even had to ask, you laid back, your fingers at your sex. You tried to relax as your fingers worked, trying to will yourself to start to get wet.

Ransom’s gripped your thighs and yanked you across the bed towards him. “No, on your hands and knees,” he growled, half tossing you over in a fluid motion.

You did the rest of it for him, shook by his aggressiveness. You mourned prematurely for your pussy, knowing you were going to be sore tomorrow; you just knew sitting was going to be uncomfortable.

Behind you, as your fingers sunk into your sex, you could hear Ransom digging around in your bedside table. You only stalled for a second in your rubbing when you heard the unmistakable sound of one of your vibrators. He slapped your hand away and it fell back to the bed for you to rest your head on as he brought the toy to your clit. You moaned, fingers curling up in the comforter.

The pressure was building, and you begged, “Ransom, please…”

He only responded with a hum of approval and then the vibrator was gone. You had a split second to pout before he slapped your swollen pussy. You jolted, wincing at the sharp sting. His cock slipped in, his hand pressing down on the small of your back. His thrusts were deep and steady, groaning at the tightness.

Ransom’s hand clamped down on your jaw, turning your face to look at him forcibly. You gasped in surprise when he spit in your face, burying himself hilt deep. His hand moved up, wiping the spit all over your face roughly.

“You’re gonna cum all over my dick,” he rasped, slowly rolling his hips. You groaned, full of him. “Aren’t you?” You nodded feverishly and he smiled in response. “Can’t fucking help yourself.”

Ransom pulled out, snapping, “On your back.” Your calves rested on his shoulders, his fingers digging into the front of your thighs as he resumed his thrusting, jolting you against the bed. You keened, his cock brushing your g spot so easily in this position.

“Look at you…” he husked. “A dirty little _whore_. Say it!”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” you gasped back to him.

His eyes practically rolled back into his head. “Yeah, that’s all you are,” Ransom groaned in pleasure. “A filthy little skank. Mine. Mine…”

Trailing off, Ransom bit at his bottom lip as his thrusts became quick and shallow. It was too much, pushing you over the edge, much to his pleasure. You saw stars and your legs quivered and you heard him encourage you, a new slew of degrading names falling from his lips.

Your legs were held up by his hand as he stared down at your pussy, his eyes still hooded with arousal. You could feel his seed inside you – he always finished inside.

“That won’t do,” he murmured. His fingers ran up, wiping the cum dripping out of you and he shoved his fingers back in. “There we go… don’t want to waste a drop. Let’s make sure his little. fucking. favorite,” he grated out every word, his fingers pushing in deep and you clenched around him, biting your bottom lip as your high wore off. He was not being gentle. “Gives us another little bun in the oven to fawn over.”

Why was he talking in third person? You did not dare ask.

“You’re going to act happy, Y/N. You’re going to _be_ happy. You’re going to fucking smile. You’re going to fucking love me, _adore_ me. And everyone’s going to _believe_ it,” Ransom snarled at you, his breath ragged. “That fucking clear? No more of this kicked puppy routine you fucking do. Especially when it seems I’m not there. I won’t have it. Not anymore. We are going to have a perfect little family from now on.”

“I—”

“Don’t fucking argue with me,” he said dangerously. “I said, ‘is that clear’? Just nod your head. It’s not that hard, Y/N.” You nodded silently and he clipped, “Good. You better shape up quick. I’m going to fuck you every night until you’re giving me another son.” His fingers slowed, his thumb rubbing your abused clit and you hissed. He smiled at the reaction and he gave it a little pinch, drawing a pathetic whimper out of you. “Yeah, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you. Such a good girl.”

He gave you a rough kiss and husked, “Don’t mistake me being nice to you outside these walls as anything other than it being my turn to put on a show.”


End file.
